


i want you (more than i thought i did)

by adverbialstarlight



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Deep Conversations, F/F, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Reunions, and listened only to glass animals, havent written tlt before be kind, i wrote this in one sitting, musician harrow, no beta we die like cavaliers, technically coffeeshop ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/pseuds/adverbialstarlight
Summary: Harrowhark Nonagesimus, better known as the global sensation and singer-songwriter BONE(S) takes a small acoustic gig at Canaan House Coffee. She does not account for a certain person from her past in the audience.aka harrow is cool and is a musician but also a simple gay like the rest of us
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	i want you (more than i thought i did)

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo tlt fandom i bring you this fic as an offering because i love these two a Lot and i think they deserve to have some music aus. wrote this in one sitting so sorry if it's a bit wacky, enjoy! btw, imagine harrow's music and voice is kinda like mitski.
> 
> title from [helium by glass animals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GInXwWrzUTc), it's a great song and i listened to them the entire time i wrote.

Canaan House Coffee is almost a literal hole in the wall. It’s in a narrow alley and a bit cramped inside, and yet it seems to be one of the most popular places to go on a Saturday night. The stage is empty save for a wooden stool and microphone stand, promising a performer shortly. Beside it is a large speaker quietly playing soft rock songs.

On the chalk board out front and the several feet tall poster in the front window advertises a performance from revered singer-songwriter BONE(S) in twenty five minutes. On the poster is a young woman in skull face paint and a large black hood. Beneath it sits the same woman, sipping on a cup of tea and peering out at the other patrons of Canaan House. No one pays her much attention, she’s hardly recognizable sans face paint and in regular street clothes.

Harrow has always loved observing her audience before a show like this, picking up the energy of the crowd and listening in on conversations. It’s become harder in the past year since she rose to a startling level of fame, when seedy auditoriums turned into prestigious amphitheaters. She can barely remember the last time she played a small local place like this, but it’s refreshing. It reminds her of the beginning, of a lifetime ago when she still had _—_ well, that doesn’t matter anymore. The point is, Harrow thinks she’d like to play more like this in the future. Mercy is quite frankly a bitch, but Harrow thinks if she plays it right, she’ll be able to convince her manager.

The bell above the door jingles melodically as a new duo steps through, and just like that Harrow’s calm pre-show mood is ruined. Even though neither of them are facing Harrow, she would recognize that stature anywhere.

Bright red hair, ridiculously long legs, and a laugh that Harrow would kill God just to hear one more time. Gideon Nav is, to put it plainly, unforgettable. Harrowhark knows firsthand, she’s been trying for the past three years. When Gideon turns away from her friend, a short brunette leaning ever so slightly on one of Gideon’s muscular arms, and out to the rest of the coffeehouse, Harrow ducks quickly, not wanting to be seen.

She wonders if Gideon knows that she’s here. It’s impossible not to with the amount of advertising that Canaan House has done for this set, but Gideon has always been a bit dense. And besides, if she knew that Harrow was BONE(S), she wouldn’t dare to even step foot inside. Right?

Gideon’s bright amber eyes take in Canaan House with the same curious wonder Harrow had nearly an hour before, a small grin on those pink lips. A strand of hair falls over Gideon’s forehead and Harrow watches with a detached sinking feeling as that friend, pale enough to rival even Harrow’s complexion, brushes it away fondly. The expression the takes over Gideon’s face is one that makes Harrow ache, that makes her think of late nights of songwriting in a cold basement and so many moments that could have been.

Quickly, Harrow swallows the knot in her throat and looks away. She tries to shove Gideon from her mind, but as she finishes her drink, it’s hard not to glace over to the table that the couple sits down at, a bit to the left of the stage. _You have no right_ , Harrow repeats to herself, almost like a mantra. _You lost it years ago_. Still, it does nothing to stop the pang of mourning every time she sneaks another glance.

Finally Harrow decides that’s enough humiliation for today and stands quietly, making her way to the dish return bin next to the counter. She sets her mug and crumb filled plate in the bin gently and turns to head to the office set aside to be a “backstage” area.

When Harrow crosses over into the quiet hall, someone hums, “Nav caught your eye, eh?”

Harrow whirls around and sees Abigail Pent, one of the employees Harrow encountered when first investigating Canaan House. She’s leaned against the wall looking out at the filled coffeehouse with a soft smile, but her eyes sparkle mischievously.

“The ginger,” Abigail clarifies, taking Harrow’s affront for confusion. “Quite a charmer, very sweet girl. She works here part time.”

“And you tell me this, why?” Harrow asks, not bothering to clarify that she _definitely_ knows Gideon Nav. More than she’d care to admit, even if they’ve both changed in the past few years.

Abigail shrugs. “If you were interested. Wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

Harrow feels her cheeks burn but says curtly, “I can assure you I’m not,” and moves past her to the room, already going over the already memorized setlist in her mind. She’ll have to check her guitar’s tuning again and of course get her makeup before the show.

Abigail is unaffected by Harrow’s cold tone and smiles warmly. “Have a good show, dear.”

Harrow closes the door and cracks open her makeup bag, heaving a shaky breath. If she puts a bit of extra care into applying the skeleton paint than usual, no one has to know. After finishing, Harrow makes a few adjustments to her guitar’s tuning, playing a quick riff to warm up her fingers, and chugs some water. Then, since there’s three more minutes, Harrow waits. Her fingers tap against her knee, she straightens her cloak and hums the start of her first song.

It’s unlike her to feel nervous before a show, but she feels _restless_ waiting for this one. Harrow isn’t foolish enough to overlook the cause. This show was supposed to be one to calm Harrow down, something casual and easy compared to the hours long, loud, and complex sets between albums. Instead, Gideon’s presence alone has added even more pressure, has raised the voice in the back of her mind that always reminders her that it needs to be flawless.

She needs to prove that it was worth walking away.

When Harrow’s rearranged the set a few times, changed it back, then replaced the one cover with another at the last moment, as a small and bittersweet joke with herself, Magnus Quinn opens the door, knocking on the frame as he does. There’s a warm smile on his face as he asks, “Are you ready?”

Harrowhark nods, pulling the guitar strap over her head and letting the dark wood instrument slide down. “I will come out at nine o’clock.”

Magnus nods. “Gottcha. You’re going to do great, everyone’s really excited to see you.”

Before he has the opportunity to make some godawful joke, Harrow nods and turns away. It forces Magnus to step out and close the door again and run back out into the main room. A few moments later Harrow hears the music fade out mid-song and the chattering quiet. She glances at her phone, waiting for the time to switch to 9:00 exactly. Harrow puts it down, slips out of the room with her acoustic guitar and bone white pick, and ascends to the stage.

With all the lights dimmed except for the ones directed at the stage, Harrow can barely even see the first row of tables, but she stares out into the darkness anyway. Her voice is steady and clear as she says, “Hello, I am BONE(S), I will be playing you a few songs.”

Without regard for any of the cheers or clapping, Harrow sits. She adjusts the microphone stand, poises her hands for the first song, and without pause, she begins to play.

There’s something almost magical to Harrow about playing music, something entrancing. The moment she begins her songs, everything else fades into background noise. It’s a cliché, but it’s as if Harrow enters a completely different world, one that consists only of herself, her old acoustic guitar, and her songs of pain and memories and just a ridiculous amount of soul bearing. By now, she doesn’t even have to think as she plays her opening song, plucking the bass strings of her guitar with care and effortless muscle memory.

Harrow stares out into the crowd and wonders if Gideon is still sitting there, caught and watching with everyone else. She dismisses the thought immediately, purposely not looking in the direction of Gideon’s table as the song comes to an end and Canaan House applauds. Harrow thanks them, adjusts the tuning of her guitar, and continues her set.

Four more songs pass and she hesitates before the next one. “I haven’t played this song in a very long while, it’s rather old,” she says quietly, “but I hold it very dearly to my heart. This is ‘Dying in Drearburh’.”

She’d received a look when showing the setlist to Mercymorn the first time. “You’re playing Drearburh,” she’d said, incredulous.

“Yes,” Harrow said resolutely.

“I recall you specifically telling me that you want absolutely nothing to do with anything off of that EP for the rest of your life,” Mercy said. “Have you forgotten, infant, that it includes Drearburh?”

Harrow rolled her eyes, scowling. “This is the last time. I will play it this once then never again.”

Mercy looked for a moment like she wanted to ask what in bloody hell made Harrow decide that, but decided against it. Harrow was glad. If Mercy had asked, she wasn’t sure she’d have an answer. She couldn’t explain why, there was just a nagging to play it once more for final closure.

After seeing Gideon in the crowd tonight, Harrow almost removed it again, pre-mortified. It was the first song they’d written together, and though Harrow’s received tweets upon tweets hearing its praise from her fans— those who know of her original musical project, anyway. Harrow was not BONE(S) back then— she’s carefully avoided it for three years. So naturally, the one time she decides to face it one last time is also the time that Gideon is there. Harrow was _this_ fucking close to picking a newer, well known song. But she’s no chickenshit.

Harrow keeps her eyes resolutely on the strings of her guitar, voice quiet as she sings of a dead, desolate place void of love. Of faded light and unexpected smiles that followed scraped knees and cold glares. Of a past life when she was a child. When _they_ were children. It’s not only Harrow’s story, as much as the public seems to think. It belongs to Gideon as well.

She plucks the last notes, her voice quiet in the finishing lines, and she dares a glance in the dark space where Gideon hopefully still sits. Sitting back, Harrow sighs and takes a drink of water, smiling as the audience claps. Even as her hands steady and she prepares for the next song— second to last on her allotted set— Harrow’s mind is stuck on the song.

Does Gideon still think about it as much as Harrow does? Did she feel the same bittersweet nostalgia hearing it, or did she walk out? Harrow almost wishes that she did, because even that is better than not knowing. Maybe Gideon left songs ago, recognizing Harrow’s voice and deciding once again she wants nothing to do with her.

The last song, Harrow decided, she would do one cover for the people who had no idea who she was and didn’t really care. She sticks to her plan and smiles ruefully as she says, “For the last song in my set, this is ‘Helium' by Glass Animals.”

Harrow only learned the song about an hour ago but plays it with all the grace of one of her own songs, voice sweet and in tune. She nearly laughs as she sings, leaning in close to the microphone and showing more emotion than she ought to. “ _I guess I want you more than I thought I did, now that I know that part of you's not part of this._ ”

She knows her voice remained even, but it feels as if she screamed the lyrics hysterically. Well, no matter. Harrow moves back and nods her head in a miniature bow, standing up. “Thank you for your time,” she says.

And with that, she steps off stage, making a beeline for the tiny hallway leading to the back room. She hears Magnus give some concluding words and the rock music resumes, but Harrow hardly pays attention. She feels dizzy, drained of all the anxious adrenaline that fueled her entire performance.

Half considering hiding in this little room for the next few hours just to avoid running into Gideon directly, Harrow yanks the hood from her head and removes the cloak. She’s sweating everywhere after cooking under the lights in the thick, dark fabric and is reminded why Ianthe finds the whole getup absolutely hilarious.

There’s a knock on the door and reluctantly Harrow opens it. Palamedes Sextus and Camilla Hect are there, Sextus bouncing on his heels. They enter the room when Harrow steps back and when the door closes, immediately Sextus says, “Harrow I am _so_ sorry.”

Turning around, Harrow furrows her brows. “What for this time?” she asks. She grabs the pack of face wipes sitting on top of her backpack and begins to remove the face paint, which comes away easily. Harrow is unconcerned of Pal and Camilla’s presence, they’ve seen her in and out of the BONE(S) makeup plenty of times before, being her only actual friends disregarding Ianthe.

“I didn’t have time to tell you beforehand but you won’t _believe_ who’s here,” Pal says as he plops down on the sofa. Camilla stands impassively next to him.

“It wouldn’t happen to be Gideon Nav?” Harrow asks sarcastically, wiping at a particularly stubborn smear under her eye.

“Wh— how’d you guess?”

Harrow rolls her eyes and turns to face him. “Sextus, I saw her walk in.”

“Huh— Actually nevermind. If you knew she was here though, why’d you still play, y’know. The song?” he asks, baffled.

Harrow’s voice was flat when she said, “Because some of us aren’t cowards.” At this, Camilla huffed a small laugh. Palamedes turned to her in false betrayal. Neither woman paid him any attention.

“‘Helium’ was not on the original set either, so I assume that was also because of her,” Camilla observes, leaning back against the wall.

“I found it amusing,” shrugs Harrowhark.

Pal opens his mouth again but before any sound can escape, probably another inane question Harrow’s not in the mood to answer, there’s another pounding on the door. Harrow has never been so popular.

Before any of them can react, an all too familiar voice shouts, “Hey boner! Open up, we have some fucking words. I know you’re in there, coward! I’m going to stand here until you—”

“Gideon,” Magnus says mildly. “I don’t think that this is the best—”

“Politely piss off,” Gideon replies. “I’ve got some _business_ with her.”

Magnus starts again but to Harrow’s horror, Gideon begins shouting again. “Gloom and doom! E-girl prime! Harr—”

Harrowhark swings the door open at lightening speed and Gideon blessedly doesn’t finish. Cutting herself off, Gideon grins. “I knew you were in there. I’ve got a _bone_ to pick.”

“I’m so sorry,” Magnus begins, mortified. “She’s—”

Harrow yanks Gideon by the tank top so she’s in the room and slams the door in Magnus’s face. “You have some nerve,” she hisses.

“Says you!” Gideon says, mouth agape. “After everything. After all you’ve done, after all we had, you played _that_ song? Are you mad, Harrow? Do you truly hate me that much?”

“Okaaay, so we’ll be outside if you need us,” Pal says awkwardly, him and Camilla inching around Gideon’s large frame to the door.

Neither Harrow nor Gideon answer him, locked in an intense, silent staring match. Harrow properly looks into those golden eyes again and she can feel her heart combusting. Her veins spark and boil, her head spins. It feels so much like the old days, when they first made a tentative truce and tried to write some music together and immediately disagreed. That was a disastrous time, chaotic and stressful and often ending in shouting. Harrow’s missed it ever since she signed onto First House Records without Gideon.

When she hears the door close behind Camilla, Harrow says neutrally, “You mentioned some fucking words you wish to have.”

Finally Gideon looks away. She runs her hand through her short hair and the fire is dimmed, more than anything now Gideon looks tired. Catching Harrow’s eye she asks quietly, “Why’d you play it?”

Harrow is quiet for a long moment, but finds that the words come to her with ease. Every other time someone’s asked, she had no answer for them but a shrug. The words feel right though when she whispers, “I missed you.”

And Harrow realizes not for the first time that she does. Even being in the same room now, Harrow still misses Gideon so fucking much. She never stopped. Looking up hesitantly she said, “I never hated you, you know that, don’t you?”

“Then why’d you leave?” Gideon counters. “I thought about you so fucking much after that, you know. It really fucked me up. We— I thought we were actually, I dunno, friends? Or something but then out of nowhere you dropped me without a second thought. Congrats on being a superstar now, I guess.”

Gideon’s words sting like acid and Harrow fights the impulse to shut her eyes and will it all away, but she continues to watch. She takes in every bit of the pain and anger and hurt on Gideon’s face, reminds herself _you did this to her_.

Harrow inhales shakily, not bothering to hide her shaking hands. She thinks tears have started welling in her eyes. “Gideon. Griddle. I made a mistake,” she says. “And I was a fool to make it. I regret it every day, not one day have I wished I had you by my side in this. You were more than just a tool to me, more than just a friend. You were… Griddle, you were everything to me. And I will never be able to make up for what I did.”

Despite the tension of the moment, Gideon smiles a bit. “More than just a friend, eh? Careful, princess, it almost sounds like you were in love with me there.”

It’s a joke, Harrow knows, but she still feels her entire face turn red. She regrets taking off the makeup already, it’s absolutely humiliating. And still she finds herself saying, “And maybe I was.”

“Hah, funny one,” Gideon says dryly, immediately dismissive.

“No, I mean it,” Harrow insists. She looks down, playing with the hem of her black tank top. “I don’t know if I loved you, but I think I could’ve.”

Gideon, who had been chuckling a bit, stops breathing for a moment. The sound of her breaths literally stop and Harrow’s head snaps up in concern. Gideon’s staring at her, frozen. She searches Harrow’s eyes for a moment and says, “You’re fucking with me.”

“Gideon Nav,” Harrow says, anxiety flooding through her entire body, “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I missed my chance, I know, and if you don’t want to see me ever again I understand. But know this at least. I’ve written songs about you, I’ve thought about you every fucking time I am on a stage. I cared about you so much, Griddle. I still do. And I saw you out there earlier and I just… I don’t know. I realized I should’ve addressed it earlier instead of _ignore you_ for three years like a complete dick. You deserve more than an apology, I wish that it wasn’t all I might be able to offer you. But I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have done that to you. I was wrong.”

For a long minute, Gideon stares at Harrowhark without moving or saying a word. Then, finally, “You were a fucking idiot.”

Harrow nods. “I was. And maybe I still am, but I want to try again. I don’t give a damn about BONE(S) or First House or any of this. It always comes back to you. To us, fucking around on the shitty old instruments hidden away in Drearburh. I don’t deserve it, but if you’ll have me back in your life in any way, I want to be there. I want to know your friends and know what you’ve been up to. I want to write songs with you and hear you bitch about your job.” _I want you_ , she adds on silently. She said she wasn’t a coward, but it seems she still might be. They both heard it, but Harrow can’t bring herself to say it.

In the middle of her mini monologue, Harrowhark hadn’t realized how much closer Gideon had stepped. Now they’re barely centimeters apart, Gideon’s warm breath brushing against Harrow’s cheeks. She looks up into Gideon’s eyes, sees an old, familiar emotion in them. Harrow had never been able to figure out what that look meant, because whenever she caught it, Gideon looked away.

Gideon does not look away this time. She stares down at Harrow intently and says lowly, a small smile curling on those lovely lips, “That’s all I ever wanted.”

And then the infinitesimal gap between them is shattered with a resounding _smash_.

Gideon’s lips are on Harrow’s, soft and gentle but also intent, filled with years of pent up emotions. Harrow’s hands immediately go up to Gideon’s hair, fingers running through the strands as she’s imagined doing a billion times over in her mind. When Gideon’s lips part from the sensation, Harrow bites down gently and they melt into each other.

Gideon Nav is a wildfire. She’s sharp tongued and loud and uncontrollable and throws herself into what she believes in. She pours that passion into kissing Harrow, strong hands holding her with a firm gentleness and lips worshipping Harrow’s like a sinner before an altar. Harrow takes it all in greedily, trying to memorize the feeling of Gideon’s lips gently gnawing at her own, of her calloused hands on Harrow’s hips and hair between her fingers.

Harrow gasps as Gideon drops to press a kiss beneath her jaw, then another right by her ear. “You never missed it, I was already there,” Gideon mutters, and Harrow nearly falls down to the floor. Gideon catches her easily and presses her against the wall, a small grin on her lips. Harrow pulls her forward, bringing their mouths together again.

If Harrowhark were to die in this instant, she thinks she’d be perfectly content. If Gideon were to pull back for a moment and drive a dagger right through Harrow’s bursting heart, she would not mind. Because seeing Gideon Nav, looking at Harrow with unadulterated adoration that she does not deserve in the slightest, Harrow is already in heaven. She’s wrapped in Gideon’s arms, right where she’s wanted to be all along.

Eventually they fully break apart, disheveled and out of breath as they lean against the door. They take each other in and Harrow takes a moment to appreciate Gideon’s tangled hair and bruised lips and dazed eyes.

Gideon clears her throat awkwardly. “So uh. Not to be the one asking the difficult questions, but what now?”

“Now,” Harrow says, considering, “I ask you for your number and see if you’d like to go for lunch with me sometime. Have a proper conversation again. Then we work things out from there.”

“Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” Gideon says in dramatized shock, pressing a hand to her chest. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“If you want it to be,” Harrow shrugs. “Oh don’t give me that ridiculous look, you look like a high golden retriever. _Griddle_.”

Gideon ignores her and throws her arms up, cheering. “I’m going on a date with motherfuckin’ Harrowhark Bone Bitch Nonagesimus,” she says smugly.

“So does this mean you agree to it,” Harrow says neutrally, raising her eyebrows. “And yes, I am aware. I _am_ “Bone Bitch” if you’ve forgotten.”

“Do I ever fucking agree,” Gideon says. “No take backs!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harrow sighs, shaking her head fondly.

Gideon gives her another quick kiss. When she pulls back, her face scrunches up. “That paint tastes horrible.”

Harrow lightly slaps Gideon’s arm, but when she does, she’s laughing. Perhaps it’s time for some new types of songs.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact song was originally going to be heat waves but realized it was a bad idea since i'm technically in the mcyt fandom? i also wrote an entire song for dying in drearburh then scrapped it because i didn't like it. (also as someone who only listened to the audiobooks, name spelling is a BITCH)
> 
> anyway thanks so much for reading! i think i'll be posting more for these two in the future because i love them very much. if you want, you can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/adverbialnouns) or [tumblr](http://adverbialstarlight.tumblr.com) :D


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